Payphone - An Adam Levine Fan Novel
by adamandjane
Summary: Adam and Jane were teenaged lovers, torn apart by diverging dreams. Now, more than a decade after they split, can they find their way back to each other, or will they remain forever disconnected - stranded at a payphone, fresh out of change?
1. Chapter 1: Losing My Mind

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_Breaking News!_ Adam Levine "Heartbroken" by Recent Breakup

April 10, 2012 -

This love has taken its toll on Adam Levine.

The Maroon 5 frontman is reportedly reeling after his Sports Illustrated swimsuit model girlfriend of two years unceremoniously dumped him over the weekend.

Levine is "throwing himself into his work," according to one pal, "but you can tell he's heartbroken."

He should find plenty to keep him busy. The _Voice_ mentor is currently immersed in season 2 of the popular singing competition and is rumored to have started work on a fourth Maroon 5 studio album. It's been over a year since the band released _Hands All Over _and a decade since their debut album,_ Songs About Jane, _first hit the airwaves_._

For more details on the split, pick up the new issue of _Us Weekly_, on newsstands now!

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Jane kicked off her heels and sank down on the couch, exhausted from another 14 hour day at the office. Massaging her temples, she thought with a sigh of how she should kill the next hour or so before bed.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the copy of Details Magazine sitting face down on her coffee table. She'd picked it up two days ago in the supermarket checkout aisle, but so far had resisted the temptation to crack it open. It had been a year now since Adam Levine's first appearance on The Voice and the sudden burst of celebrity that came with it, but it still took her breath away for a moment when she unexpectedly came upon his face on the cover of a magazine. At first she had resolutely vowed to herself to ignore all of it, but somehow the magazines always seemed to make their way into her shopping basket in a moment of weakness – just as every episode of The Voice seemed to find its way onto her DVR.

"Who am I kidding?" she thought to herself as she reached out for the magazine, flicking it open to the first page of the spread.

She neglected the pictures for now. It was more of his usual look these days – stubble, white t-shirt. She would go back to those later, but she knew there was no shortage of images. Just type his name into Google, and she would be free to obsess over practically every inch of his exposed flesh at her leisure. No, what she craved most were the Q and A's. She wanted to hear what was going on inside his head - to read through his answers and know, instinctually, which ones were genuine and which were some new bullshit his publicist told him to say.

Ah, here was some prime bullshit now. His celebrity fragrance. Did anyone really buy all this crap he kept spewing about how engaged he was in the creative process? Come on, Adam. Maybe it didn't ring so false to his other fans. After all, she actually knew him in real life. "Used to know him," she silently corrected.

The questions were fairly predictable – nothing she hadn't heard him say before. His love life. His latest break-up. Then she got to a new one.

Details: Do you believe in soul mates?

Adam (laughing): I am _so _not the guy to ask about that.

Details: You must have an opinion, though.

Adam: No, really, when it comes to matters of the heart, I am just about as clueless as it gets.

Details: It's a yes or no question.

Adam (after a long pause): You are really not going to let me dodge this one, are you? (pause) OK, yes I believe in soul mates. But, more importantly, I believe in timing.

Details: Meaning?

Adam: Meaning you not only have to meet that person, but it also has to happen at a moment in your life when you're ready for them. And if that's not hard enough already, it also has to _just happen_ to be at a moment in that other person's life when they're ready for you. It's like hitting triple jackpot on a slot machine. That's why - soul mates actually ending up together? – that's why it's so incredibly rare.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Why did she always get the feeling that he was talking about her? It happened all the time with the interviews, with the song lyrics. "Pure narcissism," she thought to herself ruefully.

Of course, the early songs had been for her. He'd put her name on the album. But that was years ago, ancient history, water under the bridge, one in a very _very _long string of his breakups.

"Why am I still hung up on this?" Jane wondered to herself for perhaps the millionth time.

"Enough," she said out loud, closing the magazine and flicking on her computer. She opened iTunes and hit play without looking at the song, knowing it was set like usual to random shuffle. She had wandered into the little galley kitchen of her apartment and started foraging in the fridge for a bedtime snack before she recognized the song that came up first.

"Of course it would be that one," she thought, closing her eyes. She could only laugh. Out of all the hundreds of songs she had on her computer, it had to be that one. An old B-side that only the really hardcore Maroon 5 fans even knew – _Losing My Mind_. She knew the words of course. She knew everything he'd ever released by heart. This one song, though, had always been perhaps the hardest of all of them for her to listen to, and the hardest to get out of her head.

_I want the world to know_

_That I won't let you forget_

_The tears that you shed._

_I'll make it impossible to let go._

He would never know how well he had succeeded.

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Adam's eyes darted to the clock on the back wall of the studio yet again as he stood at the mike stand in front of the small crowd. He used to love these intimate little publicity sessions. It was exhilarating to get a chance to interact with the fans one-on-one. It was getting old and stale now though. "Like a lot of things in my life," he thought with a sigh. They always asked the same old questions, and he rattled off the same old answers that he could have delivered in his sleep. At least it was all so rote at this point that he could escape into his own thoughts for a while without anyone realizing it.

"OK, next question. This is Dawn from Indiana."

"Hi Dawn."

"Ohmigod, I'm soo excited to meet you!"

"I'm excited to meet you too!" Flash that charming smile. Dimple it up. "What's your question?"

"I was wondering if you're ever still in touch with Jane."

Adam swallowed and took a breath to center himself. Jane. It had been a while since someone last asked about her.

Naming the album after her was probably the biggest mistake of his career. Too personal. He hadn't anticipated all the questions. Who is Jane? Where is Jane? Are you still in love with Jane? The questions had been relentless back when the record was slowly building momentum - a scab that got picked again and again, never allowing the wound to heal. They asked about her less frequently now, but it still came up every once in a while. It still knocked the wind out of him every time he heard her name.

He had learned to cover the inevitable wince with a laugh and a self-deprecating smile. The lies came smoothly after so much practice. He would never allow the truth to show.

The truth was that he was still writing songs about her all these years later. He'd just recorded a new one this month. It was slated to be a single off the upcoming album. Everyone thought it was about his breakup with his most recent girlfriend, and even he had tried to pretend so to himself when the idea for the song first came to him. He knew what it was really about, though, when he wrote the opening lines. Always the same thing, the same woman, the same choice he made 11 years ago.

_I'm at a payphone_

_Trying to call home._

_All of my change I spent on you._

_Where have the times gone?_

_Baby it's all wrong._

_Where are the plans we made for two?_

The truth was that every decent song he'd ever written was about her.

"Sure," he heard himself say into the mike. "Of course, we're in touch. We get together. Not often. But she's good, she's happy. She's got her own life. That was all like a decade ago when we released _Songs About Jane_. So, you know, if I still wasn't over it at this point that would be kind of pathetic. Not to mention creepy."

No, he would never let them know the truth - that he hadn't seen her face since that night.

The night his life ended. The night his life began.


	2. Chapter 2: This Love

_May 2001_

"First thing tomorrow, I'm getting a cell phone," Adam silently resolved as leaned against the filthy bank of payphones, searching his pockets for loose change. He'd already tried to call Jane's cell three times, but it had gone straight to voicemail. Either she'd turned it off or she wasn't picking up.

He gritted his teeth in annoyance as he eyed the entrance to the club just down the street. He should be inside right now, backstage celebrating with the guys. What a night it was turning out to be. They had just played to a capacity crowd at the Bowery Ballroom, and they had absolutely killed it. His heart was still pounding from the rush it had given him.

Until last month, the band had been grinding away at the club scene, slowly building their fan base, but never coming close to drawing a crowd this size. Their first real break had come when John Mayer happened to catch one of their shows and liked their sound. They'd hung out with him afterward, and Mayer had invited them to open for him at the one-night-only show he had coming up here tonight.

The icing on the cake, though, came after they'd finished their set just now. A couple guys from a record label were waiting backstage, wanting to to talk. Adam hadn't had time to look for Jane before getting corralled into the meeting – you didn't keep a record label waiting. Now, as well as tonight's performance had gone, he had a hell of a lot more to celebrate. Like a record deal. Like an offer to open for John Mayer on his upcoming 30-city tour. It was almost too much to take in, all in one night.

He couldn't wait to tell Jane. He'd searched the whole club. Finally, one of velvet rope guys remembered seeing her leave half an hour before.

Now Adam pulled out two nickels and some lint from his pockets, and slammed his fist into the side of the payphone in irritation. This was an amazing night. He should be in there, he thought, with one last look back at the club. Instead, he turned and set out walking in the other direction, making his way toward home. "First we find Jane," he told himself. "Then we have some fun."

He had an inkling of what must have happened, of course. Typical Jane. She probably saw him talking to some cocktail waitress before the show. It meant nothing. It never did. After nearly four years together, you'd think Jane would know that by now, but she still had these bouts of insecurity. She would get it in her head that he was into some other girl, and then it was always the same routine. She'd start breaking up with him before he could break up with her, and he'd have to reassure her.

One of these days he'd convince her how special she really was to him. It was getting pretty old, honestly, but then again, it was her only real flaw. Jane was otherwise the perfect girlfriend. Other relationships before her had always felt like work, but being with her was so effortless. Like breathing. When he was with her, it was almost like she wasn't another person at all but an extension of himself. The idea of celebrating this night without her would be like celebrating without his left leg. Unimaginable.

Jane was special, he thought, smiling again in spite of his irritation. She was the one. His whole life was really starting to come together. The band was on the brink of making it big – he could almost taste it – and the timing was perfect. Jane was graduating from college next month and would be free to come out on the road with them. A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine at the thought. And when the ride was over in a few years, after he'd cashed in for all it was worth – well then he would settle down and marry her and spend the rest of his life as one of those washed up has-beens, playing concerts of his former hits for his aging fans.

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Jane looked down at the empty suitcase laid out on the bed and swiped at her eyes again. No point feeling sorry for herself. She knew what she needed to do. It had become all too obvious, an hour before, as she stood backstage at the Bowery Ballroom, listening to those men talk. They hadn't bothered to keep their voices low. What did they care if she overheard? Who was she, anyway? No one, that's who. No one of any importance.

She shook herself, impatiently. It didn't matter. The point was, they were impressed with Adam. With the band too, of course, but mostly with Adam.

"He's got it - that thing," they had said. "That X factor."

She'd heard the whole thing. Adam was getting his record deal at last, and a major US tour to support it. They must have told him by now. He must be so excited, she thought, with a sad smile.

She knew what it meant for him. It was the break he had been waiting for all this time. Maroon 5 was blowing up. It was so clear to her, watching him play to the packed club. He'd been on fire tonight. He was a star. He always had been – just needed someone to notice.

She'd honestly thought it was never going to happen. How many thousands of people out there had those same dreams? How many ever amounted to anything? No, as talented as Adam was, she'd always figured the band would eventually fail. Then he'd have to get serious, figure out what he wanted to do with his life for real.

She'd been making plans for both of them - not that he'd ever bothered to ask her. Eventually, he would need to go back to school and get a degree. She would need a job that could support them both for a while. She'd just gotten the acceptance letter to Columbia law school last week and had been waiting for a good moment to tell him, but she'd hesitated for some reason. Well, she knew very well what reason. Because he was going to be against it – this whole law school plan. She'd been prepping for the LSAT entrance exam all last fall, and he'd spent the whole time scrupulously avoiding the subject. He didn't like her making plans. That's not how their relationship worked. He led, she followed. That's how it had always been between them.

It was for the best now, anyway, that she hadn't told him about Columbia. It would make it that much easier for her to break away.

She'd left the club in confusion, trying to make sense of what she'd heard and what it meant for her. Would she stay behind in New York while he went out on tour? Would she defer law school for a year and go with him?

It was all beside point, she'd realized, as she stumbled home. This tour was just the beginning. Once he went out there on the road, he was never looking back. He was going to be a big deal. There wasn't going to be a plan B, a real job, a normal life. And when it came right down to it, that's all she really wanted – a normal life. As much as she wanted Adam, as much as she loved him, she suddenly saw with an undeniable clarity that they were headed in two different directions.

There was only one answer. She had to let him go. He wasn't going to like it. No, he was going to be mad as hell. And then he was going to be charming as hell, trying to get her to change her mind. He was utterly irresistible when he got like that – impossible to refuse.

That's why she couldn't give him the chance, she thought, as she started filling her suitcase with clothes and books. If she was really going to do this, it had to be a clean break. No contact. If she didn't see him, he couldn't make her change her mind.

"What are you doing?" she heard Adam's voice behind her. She spun around guiltily. She hadn't expected him home until late. She hadn't had time to plan what she was going to say.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, playing for time.

"Um, I live here?" he said, his gaze taking in her reddened eyes, the half-full suitcase. He softened his tone. "Come here, little girl. You going on a trip?"

"We need to talk."

He groaned. It wasn't going to be that easy – not this time.

"OK. We can talk. But can it just wait until tomorrow? OK? You aren't going to believe what just happened back there!"

"I know," she said. "I heard those guys talking back stage."

"They want to sign us, Jane!" He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, unable to contain his excitement.

"It's amazing, Adam. I am so proud of you."

"So come on! Come out! This is the best night ever! Whatever happened, we can deal with it later, OK?"

He reached for her arm, but she pulled away. She wasn't getting through to him.

"I need you to listen to me," she said.

He was rolling his eyes. She was going to have to plow ahead with what she wanted to say, whether he heard her or not.

"Adam, it's so clear to me now, and I'm so happy for you. I really am. This is your dream. But the thing is, it isn't my dream."

"What dream?" he asked, glancing down at his watch impatiently. "Since when did you have a dream?"

"Since when did you bother to ask?" she shot back.

The anger in her voice got his attention. "OK," he replied, taking a more conciliatory tone. "Tell me. What's your dream?"

"I don't know – a house in the suburbs? A couple of kids? A husband who comes home every night?"

"We can do all that, Janie," he told her. "I love you. There will be time for that later."

"No," she shook her head sadly. "That's never going to be your life. That husband is never going to be you. Don't you see it, Adam? This is it. You're blowing up. Nothing is ever going to be normal for you – not now."

"So come with me!" he argued. "We can do it together."

She shook her head again. "I can't. That's what I'm trying to tell you. My dreams may not be as exciting as yours, but they're mine. That's why I have to go now. I have to follow them. I'm never going to get there if I'm still in love with you."

"Jane, this is crazy."

"I love you," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "But this is goodbye. For real. I have to go."

Adam stared at her as she turned and continued to pack. He couldn't believe she was doing this now. Tonight of all nights. Couldn't the drama wait until tomorrow? He was losing his patience.

"So what do you want from me?" he asked her tightly. "Do you want me to quit the band?"

"No!" she spun back around to face him. "I could never ask you to do that. You'd spend the rest of your life resenting me, wondering what might have been."

He threw up his hands in frustration. There was no way to win this argument right now. She was seriously starting to piss him off.

"Jane," he tried one last time. "Seriously? Do we seriously have to plan our whole lives out tonight? The guys are waiting for me! We're supposed to go out!"

"So go out!" she said violently.

"This is the best night of my life!" he shouted back. "How am I supposed to celebrate without you?"

She just looked at him, shaking her head. "I don't know Adam," she said. "Maybe you should write a song about it."

"Fuck you," he replied, striding angrily out the door, slamming it behind him.

He didn't come back that night. It was almost noon the next day when he finally came trudging up the steps, thoroughly hung over. He just wanted to sleep. He hoped like hell she'd let him sleep before she expected him to get into round two.

To his relief, the apartment was empty when he got upstairs. He went into the bathroom to run cold water over his face, and that's when he saw it, there on the bathroom sink - her key and an envelope stuffed with cash, with one word written on it:

"Rent."

He picked up the key with a harsh laugh. She'd never pulled a stunt like this before.

"She wants me to write a song about it?" he said bitterly to himself. "I'll write a song all right."

He picked up an old tube of her lipstick and started scrawling bright red across the white tiled bathroom walls, the words coming to him faster than he could set them down:

_This love has taken its toll on me._

_She said goodbye too many times before._

_And her heart is breaking in front of me,_

_But I have no choice 'cause I won't say goodbye anymore._


	3. Chapter 3: She Will Be Loved

Jane pushed her way through the crowd at Rockefeller Center to get a better view of the TODAY Show stage.

"What am I doing here?" she wondered to herself with a little shake of the head. She was painfully aware of how ridiculous she must look, in her Armani suit and Louboutin heels, with a crowd full of teenagers waving signs that said "ADAM I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABY!" She should just leave and get an early jump on the day at the office.

Of course she knew she wouldn't leave. She never missed a chance to see Adam play live these days when he was in town. Sometimes she went through phases when she tried to break the habit. She would purge her apartment of every trace of him - pack up all his albums, all the magazine articles, all the assorted detritus of his ascent to superstardom. She would put it all away in her storage locker in the basement for a while - until her next truly horrible date. And then it was all there for her to sift through yet again.

It had started with the first album_, Songs about Jane_. It was released just over a year after she left him, and she'd resisted buying it for a full 48 hours after it dropped. It had been a shock when she finally picked it up at Tower Records and started reading down the track list. So many new titles. There was only one that she even recognized from his former set list. _"I don't know, Adam. Maybe you should write a song about it." _He'd been a busy boy.

The crowd was starting to get restless and surge toward the stage, pushing her along with it. She ended up in the front of a section, pressed up against one of the barricades. It was closer than she would normally dare to stand, but there was no way to work her way back now. In any case, who was she kidding? It had been 11 years. She could pass him on the street and he wouldn't turn his head.

She may have been watching him all these years, but he certainly hadn't been watching her.

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Adam was midway through the first of the two song set he would perform for the early morning crowd at Rockefeller Center. _Give a Little More_ was always a fun song to do live. He was just hitting the second chorus, "_I'm waiting for something_, a_lways waiting, feeling nothing,_ w_ondering if it'll ever change,"_ when he caught sight of a woman in the crowd out of the corner of his eye.

It used to happen to him a lot. He would be playing a show and swear he saw Jane's face in the audience. It was never actually her, of course - just someone else who looked like her. Just another cute little brown-haired girl with a tight body.

In the early days on the road, he used to see some look-alike at nearly every show - a guaranteed punch in the gut at some point during the set. Sometimes he used to sleep with them too, when he got the chance. One little girl was as good as another, he would tell himself. That worked as long as he didn't think about it too hard, or think at all really. But sometimes thought was unavoidable. Then he'd have to bolt afterward, so they wouldn't see him retching over the toilet.

He'd cleaned up his act after a while of that. It wasn't healthy. He'd made himself a vow – no more petite brunettes. That particular type was retired. Only tall leggy blondes for Adam Levine from now on.

Now he caught a glimpse of the face in the crowd again, but there was someone waving a sign, blocking his view. He pulled the mike out of the stand and walked down stage to get a better look.

"Why am I doing this?" he wondered, as he strained to see the details of her face. _"_Why am I _still _doing this_?" _

_I'm not falling in love with ya, I'm not falling in love._

_I'm not falling in love with ya, I'm not falling in love._

There, he had a clear view at last. It was her. It was Jane.

He was supposed to pick up his guitar at this point and play a solo. Instead, he made eye contact with his lead guitarist for a moment, then turned back to face the crowd and said into the mike, "Mr. James Valentine, everyone!"

He didn't look back to see the confused expression on Jimmy's face. He put the mike back into the stand and slid down off the stage, into the crowd.

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"Throw to commercial! Throw to commercial!"

"What the fuck is he doing?"

"Does he have his earbud in?"

"Adam, we need you on stage. Adam, we need you back on stage."

"I've got him on camera 3!"

"What the FUCK is he doing?"

"Adam, we're back from commercial in 30 seconds. We need you back on stage."

"It looks like he's talking to a woman."

"He's hitting on someone on live TV. Are you FUCKING kidding me?"

"Shit, someone just tore his shirt."

"Cue camera 1. We're back in 5- 4- 3- 2…"

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"Hello New York City!"

Adam's mind was racing as he peeled off the torn shirt and threw it toward a group of screaming fans. Did that just happen? Was she still there? He looked back out into the crowd and caught sight of her again. What had he even said to her? Did it even make sense? He thought back to the look on her face when she saw him making his way toward her through the crowd. Sheer panic. God, her eyes were so big. What had she said? "I don't want to be on TV." Eleven years of silence, and that's what she had to say.

"We're in commercial. Will you stick around after the show?"

The impossibly big eyes got even bigger. "I have to go to work!"

"Come by tonight then. I'm at the Soho Grand."

"I don't know—"

He put his mouth by her ear and hoped no one else could hear over the screaming. "Ask to see the broom closet."

"What?" she shouted back.

He was running out of time. "The broom closet! Will you come?"

She shook her head. Was that her answer, or just confusion? What had she said? He could only read her lips at that point. "I'll think about it…"

Now he was back on stage with one song left in his set. It was supposed to be _Moves Like Jagger_. Like hell was he playing that now. PJ started the opening hook, but Adam turned and waved it off. He picked up his guitar as the guys all looked at him expectantly, ready to follow his lead.

_Beauty queen of only eighteen, _

_She had some trouble with herself._

The producer was squawking in his ear again. He yanked out the bud and leaned in to the mike stand as he strummed, straining to make eye contact with her in the crowd.

_And she will be loved, she will be loved._

He lost sight of her for a moment as the crowd swayed with the chorus. Fifteen thousand people in the middle of Midtown Manhattan, singing those words along with him. It never failed to raise the hair on the back of his neck. Was she still listening? Did she understand? He got a clear line of sight again as he hit the second verse. He let go of the guitar and reached out one arm toward her, pounding his other hand in a fist against his chest.

_My heart is full and my door's always open._

_You come any time you want._

Her eyes were locked with his. He saw her bring up her hand and rest her palm flat against her chest, against her heart.

It was a response from her at last. It was enough.


End file.
